


in the ruins of our fate

by shelllhead



Category: Avengers (Comics), Captain America (Comics), Iron Man (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Dark, Extremis Tony Stark, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Not Happy, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Civil War (Marvel), mephisto - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 08:27:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18988969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelllhead/pseuds/shelllhead
Summary: The first thing he feels is his heart beating against his ribcage with relentless persistence. His eyes don’t snap open until he is forced to feel every part of his body refill with blood and oxygen, pumping him full of life long lost.He needs to find Tony.





	in the ruins of our fate

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after Death of Captain America, but Steve is ***somehow*** revived.

The first thing he feels is his heart beating against his ribcage with relentless persistence. His eyes don’t snap open until he is forced to feel every part of his body refill with blood and oxygen, pumping him full of life long lost. If he keeps his eyes closed, he can almost pretend he is still dead inside the casket where dead bodies belong. As if to spite him, his enhanced senses revert back into him full-force, the renewed life threatening to burst out of him. 

His eyes open to darkness, and if not for the smell of the steel-wooden mixture, he would have thought his sight didn’t return yet. But he knows he is only in his casket. A casket of impeccable quality, whoever had put him in it must have thought he was going to remain dead. As all dead should remain.

He grits his teeth, and kicks the lid open without resistance, his strength not affected by his recentdemise and subsequent revival, he notes. He looks around, adjusting his eyes to the darkness. Hejumps out of the casket, raising from the dead quite literally. He feels too alive to be a dead man walking.

There is a window, so he walks to it.

It’s the ocean. His friends weren’t ever subtle. It feels like a distant memory, back to when he first woke up. Decades in ice, only to be found by the team that would eventually become his family.

This isn’t the same. He wasn’t frozen, he was dead. He remembers being shot, bleeding to death on the courthouse steps with Sharon weeping over him.

“Captain.” His reflexes are apparently temporarily on hold, as he doesn’t realise the intrusion until the man speaks. He turns, fight drained out of him but ready to stand his ground if necessary. It isn’t.

“Namor.” He sighs, noting the level of surprise the man seems to possess despite his collected demeanour.

“Well, this is a surprise.”

This is how Steve Rogers comes back from the dead.

 

————

 

He goes to New York, looking for answers. He wants to see Tony, first. The last time he saw Tony, he was locked up. Tony had locked him up, even if indirectly. They had fought for a long time, before that. They were lovers, even before that. Tony was, is, and will always be the love of his life. Even though the severity of their war had pushed the Avengers into separation, and even though they had fought themselves into oblivion, Steve knows Tony loved him, all through it. He can only imagine what Tony felt when he was shot down. He can only imagine what he would do if it was Tony who died instead. What life would mean without him in it. 

He needs answers, first. He needs to see Strange, as he is the first one he thinks of asking regarding these matters. He would know how Steve was back, and what the ramificationsof it were.

Sanctum Sanctorum stands the same as it did before. The walls are the same, the color is the same, but the feeling isn’t. Steve feels immense dread as soon as he enters the building, something disastrous eating at him— at his soul.

“Strange?” He calls out, grimacing at the wave of trepidation hanging in the air, consuming every single scrap of hope in his body.

He manages to find Strange, curled in on himself under his sheets, in bed among broken furniture and scattered belongings, beard unshaven for what appears to be months, curtains shut and a foul smell.

“Stephen, what happened?” He rushes to his side, voice laced with concern.

Strange stares at him with horror, disbelief, and a hint of accusation.

“My magic.” He says. “He ruined it.” He spits the words out, almost.

“Who?” Steve squares his jaw, ready to take him at his word. “How?” He adds. He doesn’t pretend to understand magic or how Strange controls it, but he knows he is the only one who truly can. 

Strange lets out a dreadful laugh, kicks off the sheets, his body is full of burns. Steve grimaces.

“How do you think you are alive, _Captain_?” He asks, his eyes are wild and unfocused, he is not himself.

“ _Stark_.” He spits the name out with such hostility that Steve takes a step back. His eyes widen with realization.

He is in the wrong place.

 

————

 

Whatever he felt in Sanctum Sanctorum doesn’t compare to the sense of incoming calamity he feels when he enters the Stark Tower. The Avengers Mansion is not rebuilt, apparently, and he learns he has been dead for about nine months. No one is here. No Avenger is in New York as far as he can tell, and certainly no one is in the Tower but Tony. 

He doesn’t meet resistance in entering the Tower, he goes straight up to the penthouse. He assumes that Tony knows he is coming. His heart beats fast, as if to avenge the days it remained motionless and dead. The thought of seeing Tony again pushes him to justify anything he might have done to bring Steve back, but he knows he cannot.

He knows Tony might have gone beyond saving.

He remembers the whispered promises against Tony’s skin that he would never leave him, and he remembers the restrained doubt Tony’s face always seemed to hold when Steve made such promises.

He remembers his own shield smashing Tony’s faceplate, and he remembers the utter lack of defiance in Tony’s face under Steve’s fury.

He remembers yelling at Tony and asking him if it was worth it.

He also remembers Tony’s gradual descent into indifference as they fought and fought, as they lost their team.

“Tony.” He breathes out when he sees him. Tony has his back turned to him, and he doesn’t immediately react to Steve’s voice. He seems thinner.

He seems younger, too. When he turns to him, Steve notes the lack of wrinkles and laugh lines he used to have. His eyes are bluer, and they almost seem electric.

“Ah. Steve.” He smiles, and doesn’t particularly seem surprised.

“What did you do?” Steve walks up to him and slams him against the wall. He smells the same. He briefly closes his eyes and lets the familiar smell encompass him. “What happened to you?”

“This? I’ve never shown you, have I?” He chuckles in a disconnected sort of way, his hand stuck between their bodies suddenly feeling a lot more stronger and pushing Steve away. He has his gauntlet on, out of nowhere. “It’s called Extremis. I can summon it on command. It comes out of my _body_. It also means I can control and integrate myself into every piece of technology known to mankind.”

His gauntlet retreats, and he reaches out to touch Steve’s cheek. “So alive.” He breathes out with content. “Warm, and alive.”

Steve’s world shatters.

“What did you do to Strange?” He turns his head to the side, and Tony’s hand falls. 

“Strange.” Tony hums, turning his back to Steve again, and pouring himself a drink. He started drinking again. “You know he’s always had a thing for me. I manipulated him, manipulated his magic, and cut a deal with Mephisto. He was useful during the process. And look at that. You are back.”

“I didn’t ask to be back. This is not _right_ , Tony. Dead should stay dead.”

“I got you killed, I got you back. Sounds fair to me.” Tony states. “Magic is only advanced science.” He adds, tapping on his temple.

Silence.

“Where are the Avengers, Tony?” Steve asks, panic settling over him. “Where are they?”

Tony shrugs. “They left. They tried to stop me, so I fought them. They never stood a chance. Not with this.” He taps on his temple again. “They aren’t you, after all.”

Even though Tony sounds indifferent, Steve can see the immense remorse and fear in his eyes. He is in pain. He knows Tony better than anyone.

“Stop looking so horrified. I didn’t kill them. I only stopped them from stopping _me._ ”

“All this for what? Because you felt guilty I was dead?”

Tony considers the question.

“In part. But I couldn’t live in a world without you in it. Neither can anyone else. They need you. The world needs you.” He hands Steve a drink, and Steve flings it away, pushing him up against the wall once again.

“You said Mephisto. Explain. Now, or so help me God—“

“I sold my soul.” Tony states matter-of-factly. He leans his forehead against Steve’s. Steve can’t find it in himself to pull away.

He’s heard of deals with Mephisto before. He was in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files. A soul for a soul. He remembers the details. Mephisto cannot acquire noble souls without hurting himself. They _need_ to be corrupted first.

He lets out a pained sound.

“You manipulated Strange. His magic. You must have damaged hundreds of realities. You fought our friends, family.” Steve says, horrified, his forehead still on Tony’s.

“I couldn’t let Mephisto mind control me. Corrupt me. So I did the corrupting all on my own.” Tony confirms Steve’s suspicions. “You are back, so my job is done.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Welcome back, sweetheart.” There is a soft squish sound followed by a sharp intake of breath.

Tony feels heavier in his arms.  
  
No. No. 

_No_.

Steve pulls his head away to look at Tony’s face— he almost seems relieved, at peace, his eyes light up for a moment.

“No, no. No. Please, no.” Steve begs, hoisting Tony up as he feels him sliding down. His body is motionless in Steve's arms, his shirt stained with widening dark red. The knife falls to the ground with a clang.

Tony reaches out to him one last time, his hand falling away without touching him. His eyes lose their light and his head falls back. Steve thinks he can almost see the exact moment Tony dies—somewhere between his unconscionable relief and the inevitable acceptance.

He screams.

This is how Steve Rogers loses the love of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Mephisto is a demon who collects souls but they need to be corrupted first, or it injures him. Oh, the irony.


End file.
